Tis the season for ugly knitting
by Terfle
Summary: The drabble behind Jack Robinson's ugly Christmas jumper
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by a theory from someone in the MFMM fanpage on Facebook.**

She sat in the comfortable armchair and furiously, angrily knitted. Rosie was furious. He was usually late for dinner, he gently but persistently refused promotion and for years now he had become too distant. She tried, she really did but he was just getting on her last nerve. The needles clicked and clacked irately, matching her mood. She dropped a stitch every so often but by the time he was finally in to dinner, dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek, she had nearly finished her masterpiece.

She was beginning to feel the stirrings of vindictive delight over her venture. Something so ugly that he was duty bound to wear it. That was the kind of man he was. He always did the honourable thing, something that brought satisfaction and disappointment at the same time. She hadn't thought that was possible until now. Taking up the needles once more after a lukewarm dinner while small talk cooled with the mashed potato, she carried on until nearly midnight. He didn't disturb her, just sat there with a glass of whiskey listening to the radio turned low. He had no idea what was coming. She half turned away from another unsuspecting kiss later before he went to tuck himself into bed. Her rage simmered. She couldn't wait to make him wear it at Christmas.

Finally, she finished it. The ugliest jumper in existence. Jack Robinson had to wear it. She'd make sure of that.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack Robinson investigated the contents of the package his lovely wife had given him. He held up the green monstrosity and politely thanked her for her consideration.

'Why don't you wear it to Christmas dinner?' She slyly suggested. 'My parents have invited us this year.'

He agreed affably and did as she requested. He wore it to her parents' house for Christmas (much to their surprise) and she couldn't have been more mortally disappointed that he'd been so reasonable. Damn that man! She hurled down her knitting needles in frustration after he'd bid her goodnight. He hung it considerately over the chair instead of snipping it to tiny godforsaken pieces like she would have. She hated him for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Phryne looked around and spotted a flash of green from a chink in the drawer. Aha, so that nasty jumper was still in residence. She planned to do away with it as soon as she could. She couldn't believe he had kept it all this time. She was horrified when she saw what he was wearing up in that chalet. After the case had been done and dusted, she subtly enquired about it and he told her that Rosie had knitted it for him years ago. Phryne thought that Jack's ex-wife would have nursed a serious grudge against him if she'd knitted him that. It was almost enough to put her off her favourite colour.

She grabbed it and hauled it out of the drawer, reorganising a few things to cover it up although Jack wouldn't be fooled by that. It was only a matter of time before he went looking for it. She considered burning it then thought it would make too much of a mess. So she did the only logical thing she could think of at such short notice. Looking out of the window, she saw Jack's nearest neighbours house. With a yappy dog included. No wonder he looked tired a lot of the time, he must have very little sleep if that blighter was up all hours barking. She checked to make sure that she hadn't left a trace and carried out her mission.

She screwed up the offending rag, ran downstairs and let herself out. Throwing it over the fence, the barking stopped as the yapper investigated. She waited until she heard happy snarls and rips and went to close the back door, stowing her lock pick kit away. Jack wasn't home yet, he would have a long night ahead of him, so she skipped out into the dusk and got into her Hispano. He would be too tired to notice its disappearance and by the time he did, the offending marital jumper would be ripped to pieces, peed on and buried deep into the ground as Dido the Jack Russell did the deed of destruction to perfection.

She hummed as she revved her engine and sped off into the fast approaching night. She did love a happy ending.


End file.
